These arms of mine
by bassgoddess
Summary: Just a short one-shot about Black Widow and Hawkeye...please let me know if you all would like this to continue or not, I haven't decided yet. This takes place after the battle in front of Grand Central Station at the end of the film. You have to imagine Natasha gets injured.


Clint had carried her over his shoulder back to Stark Tower, as she had fallen near him. They had won the battle, and perhaps even the war. But winning always came at a price.

She was the only member of the team that had fallen at all. Steve had tried to shield her from the exploding debris of the afternoon's face off, but had been unsuccessful.

"Get Banner!," Clint called over his shoulder as the emerged from the elevator on the med level.

Tony was standing alongside, and immediately walked next to Barton. "He's already in there; he's ready for her."

* * *

Banner had already, of course, returned to his more mortal state and had treated her injuries. A concussion, and several cracked ribs which had put undue pressure on the lungs. He suspected she'd be fine after some rest. And monitoring for the ribs.

Clint watched her labored breathing as she lay on the medical table in the enclosed room, silently cursing himself that it had happened at all.

She was his partner and he had felt responsible. After himself, she should be the next person he was looking after. But they had been so overwhelmed; so completely outnumbered it had been hard to focus on anything except the simple, almost subconscious reflex of continuously loading new arrows.

Banner walked towards the door of the med room as the other SHIELD agents stood by, looking inside, after their friend and teammate.

"She'll be fine," he said, his now-calm voice a stark contrast to his alter ego.

"Some cracked ribs...bruising...a concussion...but she's alright. And awake but trying to rest...she refused anything for the pain."

There was a collective sigh of relief that went out. Steve turned to walk back to his room, but placed his hand on Clint's shoulder as he walked past, almost as a consolation. He knew they were close. They seemed to have some sort of bond he attributed to their previously being partnered on other missions.

Clint still watched her through the glass.

"Want a drink?," Tony asked, following up before Clint could answer with, "or two or three?"

Barton ran his hand through his hair and shook his head, signaling he didn't want one.

"I think I'm just going to stay here and...watch," he said, turning back to his partner once more.

"Kinky," Tony said matter-of-factly in that complete asshole-ish way he had about him. No harm done; it was just how Tony was.

"If you need anything I'll be in the library." He turned towards the other SHIELD members.

"Come on, Thor, Steve...gentlemen? Drinks? Bitches love guys with drinks."

Steve had gone the other way down the hall, but stopped and turned.

He shrugged his shoulders and looked at Thor. "I will if you will."

Thor raised his eyebrows, equally noncommittal. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Wow," he said, gesturing for them to follow. "Just...wow, guys..."

They all sauntered out, leaving Banner and Clint.

"I'm actually going to rest for awhile. Long day," Banner started.

"You might want to put her back in her room," he continued. " But be careful moving her...the ribs and all...," his voice trailed off as he headed back to his quarters.

Clint nodded in acknowledgement and walked into the med room.

* * *

He walked slowly to her supine form; pained at the struggle each breath was causing her.

Now aside, he leaned in to her and spoke softly near her ear.

"Tash, I'm going to move you back to your room."

Her brows knotted together and she nodded slowly and as much as her sore body would allow, eyes still closed.

"Tell me if this hurts at all," he said, as he looked at her body, trying to discern the best way of lifting her. After his mind ran a few quick scenarios, he decided.

Bridal style it was.

Only way to keep those ribs unharmed.

Clint gingerly placed his arm under the back of her knees, and his other under her neck.

"Okay, Tash...it's okay...," he spoke to her calmly as he lifted her in his arms and walked down the corridor to her room.

She made a small sound like a mewl and he realized she was probably in pain even though she was too brave to tell him.

She was lighter than he'd thought. Under that suit, under all the supposed muscle, she still was, for lack of a better word...feminine. He was glad she was allowing him to carry her without a struggle. If she had been feeling well she most certainly would have decked him.

It made him smile.

He hit the door opening mechanism with his right elbow, careful to not knock her against the wall, and ventured inside her quarters.

* * *

They were identical to his. Her room was so...sterile. She must not have any trinkets either. Nothing to remind her of any kind of a past, happy life. There probably was nothing worth remembering. Immediately he wondered why he would think such an odd, personal thing. No matter.

He moved to lay her on the bed and she stirred, her eyebrows knotting together once more. She wrapped her arms around him, catching him off balance, pulling him to her, on top of her, on the bed by his broad shoulders.

"Uh...Tasha?," he said, his voice a whisper. "What are you..."

"Clint...,"

"Yeah? I'm right here...It's okay...you're going to be okay...," his voice trailed off as he put his weight on his hands on either side of her head in an effort to keep it off of her.

God, he was so close to her face. So close in fact, he could make out the traces of eyeliner which had probably been applied days before. He was mere inches from her lips, his body resting intimately against hers.

"Stay with me?," she asked, eyes still closed; her voice breathy.

"Not a good idea, kiddo," he said, moving his face slightly back.

"Perv," she said, eyes still closed, her mouth drawing up minutely at the corners as she tried to smile. She was so weak she almost had to whisper it.

"I mean, stay...in case...," her voice trailed off and her hand went to her temple. He thought for a moment she had passed out. "In case...something happens...during the night..."

Of course, he thought. If she were to hemorrhage or something no one would know. Concussions were a dangerous affair.

"Alright," he said, rolling to her left on the left side of her bed.

"Stay with me," she said again, and he could hear the strain to stay awake in her voice.

"I will. I'm here, Natasha," he said slowly, regarding her profile, obvious pain etched on her features.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said and he swore he could see the creases in her forehead lessen with that knowledge.

He watched as her breathing slowed until it rolled evenly, signaling she was asleep. A lock of hair fell into her face as her head lolled slowly to the right, away from him. Very gently, Clint reached his left hand over to brush a lock out of her eyes and she sighed. In her sleep she reached for his hand, turned so she was on her right side, and fitted his arm about her waist.

He was about to say this was probably not good for her ribs, but figured he would let her sleep. She unconsciously brought her leg between his to rest and it was so incredibly comfortable and natural that he found it hard to believe it was his partner. She just felt so...right.

Now he was wrapped around her, cocooning her and he sighed into the curve where her neck met her shoulder as his head rested on the same pillow as hers. Very gently he leaned in and placed a small kiss on the back of her bare shoulder.

"Sleep well, Tash...,"

She sighed again and pulled his arm tighter against her, bringing his body even closer, pushing her back into as chest as far as he would allow.

Clint didn't complain as he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
